


This Burden We Bear

by nowhere_dawn_death_phan



Category: Good Omens (TV)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-14
Updated: 2020-02-14
Packaged: 2021-02-27 20:07:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 708
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22721455
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nowhere_dawn_death_phan/pseuds/nowhere_dawn_death_phan
Summary: I’ve seen a lot of fics about Azi falling following the Failed Apocalypse, so I thought I’d add mine to the mix. I’ve put a slightly different spin on it than most fics I’ve seen, so I hope this is interesting for you all.
Kudos: 5





	This Burden We Bear

**Author's Note:**

> I didn't realise the formatting had gone weird, sorry about that, but it should all be okay and sorted now, hopefully.

He’s all bluster and bravado, no consideration of the consequences, and this time, it’s come back to bite him.  
“What can you do? What punishment can you possibly give me?” He asks, spreading his arms wide and spinning on the spot lazily, taking in the scene. It’s said with the attitude of a man who believes he is untouchable, who thinks he has nothing left to lose. “I’ve fallen as far as I can go.”  
There’s a noise from behind him, a quiet, subdued sound of pain and Crowley drops his arms and turns.

There’s blood running from the corners of Aziraphale’s mouth, and he holds his hands cupped under his chin to catch the stream. Lying neatly in his palms are four bloody teeth, perfectly normal looking. Aziraphale’s mouth is slightly open in shock and confusion, and Crowley watches with horror as four blood-caked fangs, sharp and pointed, split their way through ruined gums and pierce the soft skin of his lips, causing blood to spill anew. Two on the top, two on the bottom.  
Aziraphale makes a high whine of mottled pain and fear as tears of realisation and panic start to fill his eyes, and eventually his eyes move away from the sight of his hands to meet Crowley, who’s all too aware what’s happening.  
“No.” Crowley steps towards him instinctively, breathless with horror. “No, no, no, no, no. Hang on. Hang on a minute. Stop! What? Why?”  
Gabriel folds his arms, Beezlebub shifts on her heels. One of them starts the sentence and the other finishes it. “You said yourself, you have no further to fall-“  
“-Aziraphale here does.”

All Crowley can do is watch Aziraphale’s eyes as they change. There’s no comfort he can give him as tears leak from the corners of Aziraphale’s eyes and roll down his face as he sobs in resignation. The soft blue irises mould to a bright yellow, and his pupils grow, so long they almost seem to split his eye in half. For a moment, Crowley thinks there are two snake eyes looking back at him, but then they hit the light - cats eyes.  
Aziraphale filters air through his torn lips, and it’s a painful sound.  
He arcs his spine back to try and escape the heavy heat as his angel wings burn away, and folds forwards as his demon ones push their way to the surface and burst forth, almost sending him to his knees with the force with which they explode out.

When he straightens up, there’s something different about him that takes Crowley a second to pick up on. His posture is relaxed, as if somebody had been holding his strings taut the entire time and now he’s got a few centimetres of slack. It’s the first time Crowley’s seen him slouch in six millennium. Without Heavens influence he’s no longer got to be the perfect specimen, he’s no longer under constant scrutiny like he used to be. The fear in his eyes in gone, the betrayal of Heaven turning its back on him has been replaced by apathy. It’s as if somebody is doing an imitation of Aziraphale - and a shoddy one at that.

Aziraphale - or what used to be Aziraphale - rolls his shoulders in their sockets and cricks his neck. He spends a few minutes loosening himself up as though he’s just awoken from a long sleep.  
From the outside, he looks the same, minus the eyes and the teeth. His coat is still immaculate, his bow-tie level. His hair has a wilder spring to it, but that’s it. No, all of the changes are on the inside.  
“Aziraphale?” Crowley’s voice is barely a whisper as he steps forward, one hand raised like the angel- no, _demon_ , he corrects himself - is a startled animal he’s trying not to scare away.  
The-Thing-That-Used-To-Be-Aziraphale doesn’t answer, just runs a probing tongue over his new fangs, deep in some deliberation Crowley doesn’t understand. The demon that used to be his friend smiles, and those wicked bloody fangs of his sparkle in the dim lights of Hell.  
“Well…” he says lightly, and what breaks Crowley’s heart is that it is both Aziraphale’s voice and not Aziraphale’s voice all at once. “…this sure is an _interesting_ development.”


End file.
